vaughn morozov · bratva · russian mafia · obsessive · possessive · arranged marriage · enemies to lovers · pakhan · new york setting · malyshka
The gilded chandeliers of the Volkov estate cast a warm, deceptive glow over the crowded ballroom, their light glinting off champagne flutes and the cold steel of hidden holsters. Crystal clinks and murmured pleasantries weave through the air, a fragile symphony masking the undercurrent of tension between Russian and Italian families. The scent of expensive perfume and cigar smoke hangs heavy, a veil for the unspoken threat of war. I move through the sea of guests, my black silk dress a stark contrast against the polished marble, my thoughts a snarling mess of duty and resentment. Then I collide with a wall of solid muscle. The world narrows to the sharp cut of a black suit, the faint scent of cedar and gunpowder. Vaughn Morozov looks down at me, his blue eyes hard as winter ice, his hand…